Alex didn’t sleep that night.
Every time he closed his eyes, the blue light returned—flickering, pulsing, responding to his thoughts. It was as if his body had learned a new language overnight.
At dawn, he stood in his small apartment, staring at his own reflection. Nothing looked different. And yet, everything felt wrong.
Carefully, he raised his hand.
“Focus,” he whispered.
The strange warmth gathered in his chest, flowing through his arm like a quiet current. The air in front of his palm distorted slightly, rippling as if touched by heat.
A spark appeared.
Alex froze.
The spark grew brighter, forming a thin thread of light that hovered in the air. It wasn’t fire, not exactly. It didn’t burn. It hummed.
Laughing nervously, Alex let go of his concentration. The light vanished.
“So it’s real,” he murmured.
Outside, the city was no longer calm.
News alerts flooded his phone—power outages, unexplained explosions, people collapsing in public places. Some called it mass hysteria. Others whispered about miracles.
Alex scrolled through the reports, his heart pounding.
If magic was real, then he wasn’t the only one.
A sudden knock echoed through the apartment.
Alex turned sharply, every nerve screaming. He extinguished the lingering warmth in his body and backed away from the door.
The knock came again—slow, deliberate.
“Mr. Carter,” a voice said from the other side. “We’d like to talk.”
Alex’s breath caught.
Someone already knew.